The Pain in My Side
by tminuslucas
Summary: Irileth has been the Housecarl of Jarl Balgruuf the Greater, who rules Whiterun Hold, for over a decade. But what will happen when a young annoyance suddenly enters her life? (Story with OC. Rated M just in case, depending on how I take the story. Spin-off of the Civil War in Skyrim)
1. Chapter 1

She entered the barracks in a fast pace. She was dressed in dark brown leather, with her hair a soft red, and her skin color resembling that of wet sand on a stormy beach. Her posture made her look strong and menacing, especially with one dark hand grasping her sheathed sword and the other balled into a fist. "Bring him in." She barked, her dark voice cold and raspy. Two guards, both dressed in silver and yellow armor and wearing helmets to conceal their faces, roughly dragged in a young man wearing nothing but rags. Earlier he had been kicking and screaming to get away, but after being severely outnumbered, he let his body go limp in defeat. His clothes were bloody and battered, and the guard's hands were clutched so tightly around him that it was obvious they would leave bruises.

"Put him there." She pointed to a rotten chair, and the guards quietly obeyed. They flung him into the seat as if he were just a piece of trash, and he let out a groan from the pain. One of the guards then grabbed a piece of rope, tying the prisoner's hands behind him. He felt locked in place.

There he sat for what felt like forever. He didn't dare look up at the lady Dunmer, and instead chose to look down at his lap. The sweat from his forehead dripped helplessly onto his pants.

"Leave us. You are not to enter unless I knock."

Slowly he tilted his head to the side and watched the guards strut out of the building. What he would give to be any of them. The door immediately locked behind them.

Then there came a grunt from the Dunmer. She had leaned up against a brown pillar that held the stone wall together, and folded her arms under her breast. The man felt a sudden surge of courage that dared him to look up at her. But her carmine eyes quickly pierced his spirit, and he averted them in order to stare at a cup resting on a table.

"You will tell me everything." She demanded finally. The question seemed obvious to her.

He swallowed, "I don't know anything." The Dunmer let out a growl.

"Do not play stupid." She spat, removing her arched back from the wall. Slowly she stepped toward him, getting closer with every word. "You will tell me why the _Stormcloaks_ were right outside our door step. You will tell me why you led them here. And most importantly-" she was menacing now, leaning over him, her back curved down sharply and her words echoing hard into the man's ear, "- you will tell me why you helped us slay them."

He was sweating more than he had been. This must have felt quite amusing to her.

"I will tell you nothing." He mumbled. "You're just a measly dark elf."

_Swack!_ The back of her fist had found it's way straight across his face. He clenched his teeth to hold back a swear.

"Watch your tongue." She warned, walking around to his back. "I think you'll find that I am not as forgiving as the guards here. And I am growing impatient."

The man grew another spout of bravery when she moved away. He looked up at her when she walked to his front. His dark blue eyes could have spouted fire, but the Dunmer met them with her own violent gaze.

"You will tell me everything." She repeated.

"I didn't know they were Stormcloaks."

"Little elf, you are pushing your luck."

The young man grunted. "I am only half elf."

"Oh, forgive me." She rolled her eyes. It was obvious what he was. Another half-bred Nord denying his elven heritage. Typical. Nords were known for such racism.

"So then, little _mutt,_" She grew a vicious smirk when he narrowed his eyes at her, and raised her tone. "How is it that you are in Skyrim but don't recognize a Stormcloak when you see one?"

"They paid me." He leaned back in his chair. "I don't ask questions when coin is involved."

She growled. "So you're a mercenary."

"I did't say that."

"Then what _are_ you?" Her tone began to hint impatience.

"I'm Rorek." His smile grew when she let out another growl. "And you are Irileth right? Now what is a _Housecarl_ doing interrogating a prisoner?"

"I will be the one answering questions here!" she boomed, lifting her leg high and thrusting it right into the center of Rorek's chest. Before he could even react he was pulled backwards, his chair giving way. He let out a yelp when his head smacked on the cold hard ground. The guards outside could be heard giggling like children.

A severe pain could now be felt from his hands, which were now being entangled and mushed under the weight of his body. Irileth leaned over him once more. Her voice was quite low now, and Rorek could have sworn that she was hissing as she spoke. "You will show me some respect, boy. I am _not_ to be toyed with."

He turned his head away from her and tightly shut his eyes. Irileth stood back up, quite pleased with herself. It had been a while since Jarl Balgruuf had assigned her any sort of fun. And she always enjoyed the defiant ones. She was also quite positive that this half-elf was hiding something. He was one not to be trusted.

"I will be back." She announced, clicking her heels and walking toward the door. She banged on the front door and at once the door clicked open. The guards couldn't wait to enter. Once she had left, several guards scrambled into the room and shut the door behind them.

They all began to chuckle to themselves. Hearing Irileth work must have really riled them up. Rorek opened his eyes when he heard them, and he swallowed hard. This was going to be quite a long night for Rorek.


	2. Chapter 2

Irileth took the steps back up into Dragonsreach, the massive building atop the Cloud District. This was where the Jarl lived, along with her and all in his court. Her pace was just as fast as it always was, and quickly she had reached her Jarl. He was Jarl Balgruuf the Greater, and his hair was long and golden, and his eyes were gray and wise. Jarl Balgruuf did not look up when she approached, instead he was turned away talking to his stewart. That man's name was Proventus Avvenici. He was a short, balding man, who had dark eyes and wore a constant frown. He was busying himself by mumbling nonsense into the Jarl's ear.

"My Jarl…" She greeted. Balgruuf looked over attentively. Irileth held back a scowl when Proventus did the same.

"Irileth." He nodded. "Has the boy told you anything?"

"No my lord. Perhaps several days behind bars will change his mind."

The Jarl slouched back into his chair and rested his chin on his hand. "We do not have that much time. Either get the information out of him, or throw him out of the city."

"Throw him out?" questioned Irileth.

"But my Jarl!" Proventus protested. "He has committed crimes against our people! He snuck in five Stormcloak soldiers who could have very well planned to assassinate you!"

The Jarl didn't remove his eyes from Irileth. Proventus knew what they were doing. The two had been very close, forging a strong battle-bond caused the two to practically know what the other was thinking.

"I know, Proventus. But he betray them before they even reached our steps. Perhaps that was what the plan was all along."

"We do not know that, sir! I understand your sympathy, given how young he is, but in my opinion, it would be beneficial if he were at least handed over to the Imperial army-"

"Enough!" The Jarl swung his head toward his steward's direction. Proventus snapped his mouth shut. Irileth stiffened, locking her hands behind her back. "You know as well as I how unforgiving the Imperial Army is. And I would rather not have any more soldiers walk through that gate."

Proventus went to protest, but quickly thought against it. It was obvious that Balgruuf sympathized with all sides of the war, but in his opinion the man was going far too easy on the prisoner because of it. Even though the boy hadn't harmed any civilians, he still knew how to sneak into the city. Throwing him out could mean delivering more Stormcloaks into Whiterun.

"That will be all Proventus." Said Balgruuf. Proventus gave him a small bow, then turned and walked toward the long table a few feet in front of them. It was obvious that he was fuming. Irileth always enjoyed watching him storm off with his tail between his legs.

"Irileth." The Jarl now turned to his Dunmer Housecarl, "If he will not speak in the morning, throw him out. Make it clear that if he is seen in my city again, that the punishment will be severe."

"Yes my Jarl." Irileth then turned and took her usual place to the left of him. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted one of Balgruuf's children peeking into the room. She tilted her head and gave him a questionable look, moving her hand in a quick shooing motion. Once he realized that he had been spotted, he quickly dashed away and up the stairs. Those children always gave her a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Rorek spit blood into the face of one of the guards. The man was not wearing his helmet, and this lunged backward with a yowl when it splattered into his eyes.

"You will pay for that you little-"

"If you call me 'little elf', one more time I'm going to-"

"Shut up!" _Bam!_ A quick jab into the young man's ribs. He spat out more blood, but this time he aimed for their shoes.

"Ain't every day we get a feisty prisoner." Chuckled one of the guards.

"Aye, he doesn't even scream if you hit him." Laughed another.

Rorek growled. "You people are sick."

"We wouldn't have to get dirty if you'd have just told Housecarl the truth!"

"I did tell her the truth!" he cried. There was another quick jab into his ribs. At least they were only using their hands.

"I'm bored of this." One of the men yawned. "I'm going to grab a pint over at the Bannered Mare."

"I'll join you then. Coming, Hrol?"

"Fine then." The guard named Hrol grabbed Rorek's arm and pulled him up from the ground. The boy smirked and let his body go limp. Hrol grunted under the sudden dead weight and attempted to drag him along. One of the other guards lifted his feet to help toss him into a cell.

"Sleep tight, little elf." Hrol smirked, closing and locking the gate. All three guards howled with laughter, pleased with their little spout of fun. They turned to leave, and waved goodbye to their little plaything.

Rorek let out a sigh, happy that he was finally alone. But it didn't last long, for another guard stumbled into the place and took a seat in front of his cell door. He reeked of sweat and mead, and the boy crinkled his nose when the drunk let out a wet belch.

Slowly, he began crawling along the floor. His ribs were screaming at him to stop, but he knew that passing out on the floor wouldn't make them so happy either. He gritted his teeth as he delicately hoisted himself up onto the bed, which smelled like rotting flesh. Rorek was too weak to complain, and instead let out another sigh. His entire body ached, filled with more bruises and cuts than he cared to count. But he chose to look on the bright side. He was inside, where there were walls and a ceiling and no chilling wind to scorch his hide. It must have been quite late though, he guessed. It would be quite easy to fall asleep in a place like this. If only the bed didn't smell like old venison.


	3. Chapter 3

As the sun was beginning to peak in the sky, clouds swam along happily colored in orange and blue. The grass along Whiterun was happily swaying in the wind, and the city-folk were awakening to see the promise of a bright new day.

Irileth took in a breath of fresh, cold morning air before stepping inside the barracks. Usually she would arise at the same time as Jarl Balgruuf, but given her orders, she had to awake extra early in order to get the most out of the day. Upon entering the building, she was surprised to find the area practically empty. Besides the prisoner sleeping soundly inside his cell, there was only other in the room. Just one guard on duty. And he was passed out and half hanging off of a chair!

Quietly she approached. When she saw her shadow loom over his resting body, she leaned forward and yanked the chair right out from underneath him. Abruptly he awoke, the lower half of his body smacking onto the floor. Irileth grunted as she watched the man fumble across the floor, trying to find his footing. She waited impatiently for him to stand.

When the guard stood he smacked his hands onto his sides and puffed out his chest. He bit his lip, feeling the beginnings of a panic attack coming on.

"Guard." Irileth growled. "_Why_ are you sleeping on the job?" It was obvious why. Not only could she smell his fear, but there was an odor of alcohol radiating off his body as well.

He fidgeted. "F-f-forgive me, Housecarl."

By this time, Rorek had awakened and dared to peek through the bars.

But Irileth didn't take notice. Instead she was eyeing the miserable guard angrily. "If I find you in this position again," she snarled, "I will inform Commander Caius of your failure, and you will be immediately dismissed from your duties." She flared her nostrils. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Housecarl!" The guard saluted.

"Good. Now get out of here."

Without missing a beat, the guard dashed around the angry Dunmer and headed toward the barrack door. On his way out he managed to take out several chairs and even hit his foot against the side of a bed, nearly knocking himself to the ground. Rorek let out a soft snicker, which unfortunately caught the attention of Irileth. She snapped her head around to glare at him. He squeaked and quickly shrunk back and faced the wall.

"What is the matter?" she bellowed. "Last night you had quite the tongue. Today it seems you have lost it."

The young man didn't move. Irileth moved closer and unlocked the cell. Slowly she stepped inside, ignoring the foul stench that the room had.

"Get up." She ordered. Rorek didn't move.

"I said," Irileth moved forward, grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking him off the bed and onto the floor. He let out a painful howl. "Get. Up."

Rorek rolled over and sent her a glare, but slowly he forced himself to rise, that crippling pain he had felt last night now returning with a vengeance.

Irileth seemed satisfied enough with his hunched posture, and placed her hand on his shoulder. She pushed him hard, signaling him to move forward. Submissively he forced his aching body to walk forward.

"Where are we going?" Rorek said meekly. She answered by pointing to a chair. The boy dragged his feet over and practically fell onto its lap. He mumbled something about being too old for this.

"I expect that you remember our conversation from last night?"

Rorek nodded slowly.

"And has our hospitality cleared your memory?"

He felt ready to sing like a bird. "What else do you want to know?"

Irileth lifted her leg to rest it on the foot of his chair. "Well? Where did they approach you? What was their intent here in Whiterun?"

"They approached me in Rorikstead. They... they wanted to overthrow the Jarl. Put some guy named Gray into power. That's all I know."

"Alright. Now why did you betray them?"

Rorek narrowed his eyes. "Because I don't agree with their cause. But I was hungry, and they gave me food. This was how I was to repay them."

As Irileth opened her mouth to ask another question, the door to the barracks slammed open, and several guards ran inside.

"Housecarl!" They said in unison.

The Housecarl removed her leg from Rorek's chair. "Report! What is it?"

"There's… there's been an accident!"

"What sort of accident? Out with it!" She didn't have time for this.

"Jarl Balgruuf-"

No more needed to be said. Quickly the Dunmer charged through the guards and shoved open the front door. A hinge broke off from the sheer force of her push, and once of the guards fumbled back and stepped on Rorek's foot. Rorek cursed.

The road to Dragonsreach could not have felt longer to Irileth. She prayed to Nerevar, Azura, the Divines, anyone that would be listening, and begged for Jarl Balgruuf to be alright. She charged passed the civilians in the market, dashed up the stairs, and knocked into someone so hard that their basket flew into the air and landed on a boy's head. The boy then stumbled down the stairs and splashed into a small pond below.

But there was no time to apologize. Now panting from the adrenaline and fear coursing through her, she kicked open the door and ran to see where her Jarl was. He had not taken his usual seat by the stairs, and he was not sitting at either of the large tables. In fact, there was almost no one in the entire room, save for several servants running about.

She tore past the tables and up the stairs to the Jarl's Quarters. More than half a dozen people were gathered around his bedside. It was silent save for one of Balgruuf's children, who could be seen laying over his motionless body and sobbing. Irileth swallowed hard as she pushed past a guard to get a better look. It was a horrendous sight. Half of the bed was stained with blood, and Jarl Balgruuf lay there with a stunned expression. Her heart dropped. Through his sobbing daughter, Irileth could clearly see more than just a few stab wounds.

Hrongar, a bodyguard of Jarl Balgruuf's, stepped forward to take a spot next to Irileth. He was dressed in banded armor, a menacing man to any of his foes. "We found him like this." He frowned. "It must have happened after you left for the prison." Irileth turned her head in his direction, but kept her eyes glued on the Jarl. She didn't have the will to speak.

"Irileth!" Proventus emerged from the crowd and jogged to her side. "How could this happen? I told you that you shouldn't have left the Jarl's side! Especially not after those Stormcloaks had broken into-"

"Not now, steward." Hrongar scowled.

The bald Imperial turned his head away from the two. "I suppose… I suppose as of now, this makes you the unofficial Jarl, Hrongar."

Irileth gritted her teeth. Now what did this mean for her?

"I suppose it does. Proventus, Inform only those of importance of the Jarl's death." Proventus nodded and trotted off. Hrongar turned to face a dazed Irileth. "Return to your room, Irileth. That will be all for today."

She managed to look away from Balgruuf. Her voice was monotone. "But it is not even noon yet. And…And I have not yet finished questioning the prisoner…"

Her eyes widened. The boy! She turned and stormed off in the direction of the barracks, ignoring any sort of order that Hrongar may have called to her. The Stormcloaks had succeeded in killing off the Jarl, and they would pay for this. _Especially_ that conniving little half-elf.


End file.
